


Before Caboose

by agent_florida



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fight Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-03
Updated: 2009-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/pseuds/agent_florida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waiting for the new recruit turns out to be too boring for Church and Tucker to handle. To fill the time, they fight each other until they fall apart, but they both know eventually it will go too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before Caboose

“You ever get in a fight?”  
  
Church and Tucker were deep into their third pitcher of beer by this point, drinking off the weeks until Command would send them their new rookie. The base was empty without Flowers there, and they were painfully aware of it. Sometimes, they would go the entire day without seeing one another, or just passing in hallways. But at night, when they knew there was no one else but them, they would drink.  
  
“Sure, man,” Tucker said, sucking the head off of his beer. “We’re talking about fights with girlfriends, right?”  
  
“No, not that shit. I’m talking a fucking slugfest. Blood in your teeth and everything.” Church swallowed a little more of his beer.  
  
“Like a bar fight? Never been in one of those, man.”  
  
“I have.” Church was staring down at his glass. Tucker would have been surprised that he was opening up, but they were both more than a little buzzed, and Flowers’ sudden death had unnerved them both. “My girl back home, she used to cheat on me. A lot. Guys would come up to her at the bar, would know her name, and I’d deck ‘em, ‘cause that’s what you do when you know your girl’s cheating on you.” Another drain of his beer. “Then I’d get the shit kicked out of me by those guys. They were guys she was working with, and they were… pretty intense.”  
  
Tucker looked over at Church; he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who ever got the shit kicked out of him. His body was lean but solid. Basic training had been good to him; he was probably some average joe before the army got to him. He swallowed whatever he was going to say to Church to reassure him about himself with his next sip of beer. “Me, I’m a lover, not a fighter,” he said instead. “It’s a good thing that I’ve never been in a fight. Right?”  
  
“No, it is not.” Church stood, cracking his knuckles, and the way he looked at Tucker was almost desperate. “How much can you really know about yourself if you’ve never been in a fight?” Tucker just gaped at the man who might be his C.O. “Come on, just hit me, before I lose my nerve.”  
  
Tucker stood, his hands balling into clumsy fists, trying to remember everything he had ever seen on TV boxing matches. He couldn’t tell Church that he had never thrown a punch in his life. “So, you want me to hit you? Like, in the face?”  
  
“I don’t know. Surprise me, man.”  
  
“This is so fucking stupid.” And Tucker let one rip, right into the side of Church’s neck.  
  
“Oh, mother-fucker!” he let out slowly, clutching the side of his neck as he bent over from the force of the blow. Then he looked up at Tucker, a grim smile above that prickish small beard he always kept. “You hit me in the ear!”  
  
“Jesus, I’m sorry!” Tucker said. Was it that obvious he’d never punched anyone before?  
  
“Why the ear, man?” But before Tucker knew it, Church wasn’t whining any more, he was winding up faster than Tucker could see, a fist heading for his torso –   
  
\- and then it was Tucker who was doubled over in pain, the dull throbbing of a punch to the gut making him wheeze. Fuck, it hurt. It hurt more than he had ever expected. But somehow, it was a welcome distraction from all of the feelings that had unexpectedly cropped up after Flowers’ death, from the endless boredom at Blue base. When he looked up from his crouch, Church was standing over him, offering out a hand to help him back to standing. Tucker took it, and then didn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “Would you hit me again?”  
  
“No, you hit me first,” Church said through that unbelievable smirk.  
  
And from then on out it was a blur of fists, of grunts, of flashes of dull pain as elbows hit ribs and knees went into stomachs. They didn’t seem to separate and lean against the bar in their kitchen until they had, like Church wanted, beaten the shit out of each other.  
  
As Tucker nursed the rest of his beer, holding the cold glass against the eye he knew was bruising, Church was smoking a cigarette. When he flicked the thing away, Tucker passed his beer, and he watched Church take a long draw and swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing. “We really should do that again sometime,” Tucker said to fill the silence.  
  
Church just looked back at him and smiled that devilish smile. “Yeah. We should.”  
  
\---  
  
And they did. There was nothing to do in that goddamn box canyon anyways, so they figured they might as well make it interesting. It would be the brief punching wars over the TV remote that would leave one of them stumbling to the mirror, blinking the blood out of their eye coming from the new cut on their forehead. Or if it wasn’t that, it would be the kicking contests to see who got the last bite of dessert. It seemed like all their days were made of now was fighting one another.  
  
But it wasn’t hateful. It was never hateful. It was more of a display of pain tolerance, of testosterone rage. There were no women around here, and no excuse of anything to do with their bodies, so what else were two guys to do?  
  
As the days went on, they almost started getting friendly with one another, having random exchanges in the kitchen as they would eat breakfast, in the entrance to the base as they would exchange patrols, as they would watch some boring movie on TV.  
  
“If you could fight anyone famous, who would you fight?” Church asked abruptly in the middle of a cop film.  
  
Tucker had almost been sleeping, trying to get comfortable around the bruise under his ribs that was hitting awkwardly against the arm of the couch. But he was used to the constant questions as conversation starters by now, even if he didn’t particularly like his own answers. “Tyler Durden,” he said lazily, shifting again.  
  
“Tyler Durden wasn’t real,” Church pointed out.  
  
“Fine, then, asshole. Brad Pitt. As Tyler Durden.”  
  
“What, you some kind of fucking homo? Wanting to fight Brad Pitt.” Church barked out a laugh, as if it was all a joke.  
  
But the remark stung Tucker deep. He had always liked the look of men, especially ones cut like Brad Pitt, but he had always figured they were some kind of man-crushes or bro-mances. Was he really some kind of ‘fucking homo’ for wanting to get his hands on Brad Pitt one way or another? “Well, who would you fight, then?” Tucker asked quickly.  
  
“Abraham Lincoln,” Church said quickly, as if he had already premeditated his answer.  
  
“The hell, dude? He was a president.” Tucker shifted again; the couch just wouldn’t get comfortable with all of the bruises he had.  
  
“Yeah, but he was skinny and tall. Skinny guys fight ‘til they’re burger.” And the way his C.O. was looking at him so pointedly made Tucker move the pillow that had been supporting his arm on his hip to cover the suspicious bulge in the front of his fatigues.  
  
\---  
  
A few days later, they were sharing the bathroom. It was a shithole: water coming out in rusty spurts, sometimes scalding hot, mostly freezing cold, with grime on the tiles. Tucker was attempting to shave, his hand so shaky and bruised from punching Church that it was hard to grip the razor correctly.  
  
It didn’t help that Church was completely naked next to him, lounging in the tub as if he owned it, his knees coming through the water, a cigarette dangling between his lips. Tucker knew that if he looked over, he would see everything, even through the nasty water.  
  
So he gave up, dropping the razor and turning instead to the bottle of peroxide they always kept out near the sink. Without anything to sop it up with, Tucker took off his shirt, exposing himself to Church’s eyes if the other man looked over, and balled it up in his hand, feeling his stiff knuckles grinding against each other.  
  
Then he heard Church exhale, and the room filled even more pungently with the smell of smoke. “Given the chance, if you ever got the chance to fuck anyone, who would you fuck?”  
  
Oh, it was another one of those questions. Tucker was growing to hate these conversations; they would always pin him in an awkward situation. Church always had better answers than he did, and he knew that the other man must have been asking just to see him embarrassed. “I don’t know, man, you go first.”  
  
“I’m not buying that bullshit.” Church dragged up a washcloth and placed it over his hair; now Tucker definitely knew there wasn’t anything covering him, and he felt an uncomfortable tightness in his gut when he thought about it. “Come on, the walls of this base aren’t so thick that I can’t hear it when you jack off. You have to be thinking about something if you’re moaning like a little bitch.”  
  
Church heard him when he was jacking off? He suddenly went from mildly aroused to half-hard. It wasn’t that he was an exhibitionist or anything, but… bow chicka bow wow, he thought to himself. The idea was definitely getting him hot. To distract himself, he poured a little peroxide into his shirt and used it to dab at his knuckles. But even the stinging pain of the fluid on the cuts on his hand wasn’t enough to make himself go down.  
  
“You’re not answering my question,” Church said after a moment of silence. He sloshed in the bathtub. “And I know you’ve been thinking about it.”  
  
Oh, fuck, he could still see? When Tucker turned around, Church had pulled the rag up from over one of his eyes, and his eyebrow was raised as he appreciated the bulge in the front of Tucker’s fatigues. And almost against his will, Tucker found his own eyes drifting down, to Church’s arms gripping the side of the tub, to the plane of his chest that disappeared below the water, to… oh, fuck again. He quickly turned away. “I wasn’t thinking about anything,” he denied, too quickly.  
  
“Come on,” Church asked again. When Tucker didn’t speak up, he just sighed and sloshed again. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll just sit here and wonder. Is he an ass man or a breast man?” Slosh, slosh, slosh.  
  
“What the fuck, man? Can’t I have a little –aah!” The peroxide really did sting that time. “Fuck this,” he said, throwing away his shirt and reaching for the tube of Neosporin they kept in the medicine cabinet. Slosh, slosh, slosh.  
  
“Fuck what?” Church said sarcastically.  
  
 _Fuck me into the tile floor and make me scream like a bitch?_  Tucker found himself thinking before he could stop himself. With the little tube of gel in his hand, it was too tempting to think about. And before he knew it, he was full-mast, straining against the fabric of his pants. “Oh, fuck me,” he cursed angrily, tugging at the taut fabric over his thigh to make it even a little less obvious. Slosh, slosh, slosh. Was he really gay, getting a hard-on in front of Church? Or was it too long of an absence from women for his oversexed ego to handle? But then he realized what he just said, and he clapped a battered hand over his bruised mouth. Slosh, slosh, slosh.  
  
He turned around at the waist, unwilling to let Church see the tent he had sprung, but what he saw shocked him even more. Every time the water in the bathtub had swirled around, it had been caused by the arm Church now had in the water, which was wrapped around his cock and stroking it almost lazily. “Really,” he said, that sarcastic drawl back in his voice, the raised eyebrow making him look almost irresistible.  
  
Tucker felt heat rising to his face for the first time in his life, and he was thankful he had such dark skin to hide what must have been a blush from his C.O. There really wasn’t even anything to say in a moment like this, so he just looked down in his hand, where the yellow tube was still clenched in his fist.  
  
Church followed his eyes, then reached up to take the washcloth off of his face. The expression on his face was almost predatory as he rose from the bath, with one hand still around his cock. Tucker’s eyes widened as he realized maybe that thing would actually be going inside him.  
  
“Wait. This is turning into some gay shit, isn’t it?” he said quickly. He tugged at the fabric of his fatigues again, but his own cock just wouldn’t go down. He was panicking as Church came up behind him, dripping wet and naked, solid like he had never believed.  
  
And suddenly his own skin was wet, a bearded chin resting on his shoulder, an arm coming around his abs to keep him from running, his other hand creating a damp patch in the front of his pants as he reached for Tucker’s hardness. “No homo or anything,” Church’s voice said low in his ear, “but it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten any. And you’re here, and I’m here, and this is here…”  
  
“I get it,” Tucker said bitterly. It was clear that this was just a last-resort fuck for the two of them, something else to do to pass the time, something else testosterone-charged besides beating the shit out of one another. But his tune changed quickly as Church unbuttoned the front of his fatigues, and he hissed as the other man’s hand curled around his cock. “Oh, God,” he breathed, letting his head fall back onto Church’s shoulder.  
  
“Close,” Church said in that dangerously low voice again. “House of worship.”  
  
“Oh, very funny – oh,” Tucker said again as the hand on his abs roamed up to a nipple and grazed it on the way up to his neck.  
  
“So you’re one of those guys,” the other man said, going back down and catching the nipple in his hand.  
  
Tucker almost let out a moan before he bit his tongue; he didn’t want to sound like a needy bitch in the middle of this, it would only make it worse. “I thought you said you hadn’t done this before,” he gasped out instead.  
  
“No, not like – I meant going commando,” Church bit back, pulling his hips away and letting Tucker’s fatigues drop to his ankles.  
  
And although Tucker had been this naked many, many times before, he suddenly felt completely out of his element. This was so, so gay, he kept repeating to himself. So, so gay, and so, so… “Mmm,” he hummed in his throat before he bit his bruised lip again. The pain from his swollen mouth reminded him of all of the fighting they had done over the past two weeks, all of the contact…  
  
And then it was just like those times, because Church gave a shove and Tucker landed face-first into the tile floor of the bathroom. He didn’t want to think about all of the grime here (he had probably just gotten athlete’s foot on his face) and in a few seconds he didn’t have to, because Church was pulling his pants away from his ankles and was leaning down behind him, using the thumbs of his hands to pull his asscheeks apart, and “What the fuck, man?”  
  
Church stopped the swirling motion his thumb had been making against Tucker’s hole. “I thought you said ‘fuck me.’”  
  
“I did, but what the f-fff-ffff,” he sputtered as he felt something slick against his backdoor.  
  
“Just try to relax and it won’t hurt so bad,” Church’s low voice said again.  
  
And Tucker tried not to think about what, exactly, was going on as one of Church’s long, slender fingers pushed into him, knuckle by knuckle. “How the fuck…” he asked.  
  
“… do I know what I’m doing if I’m not an ass pirate?” Church filled in the question for him. “Don’t even ask. My girl back home was into some crazy stuff.”  
  
And then it didn’t even matter, because somehow, that long finger touched something inside Tucker that made him shut his eyes tight with pleasure. He felt his cock twitch with the pressure coming from inside him. And he let out another little moan as another finger joined the first, with more subtle pressure, teasing out the tenseness in his sphincter and loosening him up.  
  
And then the fingers pulled out and something was making a schlick noise. Tucker raised himself up on his elbows to see what was happening before the sudden pressure of Church’s hand on the back of his head smashed Tucker’s face into the floor. That pain was more familiar to Tucker than what was currently happening behind him, and he made an indecent whimper as Church pressed the head of his cock inside. Church ground down on his head harder, aggravating the black eye that Tucker had finally been rid of the day before, and the pain of his face was almost, almost enough to keep him from groaning at the simple oddness of something inside him where it shouldn’t be going.  
  
And then the burning feeling stopped, becoming an ache that seemed to take up his entire lower half, spreading from his asshole to the tip of his cock. Church must have felt the way Tucker squirmed, because he said in a silky tone, “Relax. I’m already inside.”  
  
And then he wasn’t, pulling out and slamming against that spot inside Tucker again, and then he really was screaming like a bitch as Church thrust into him, again and again, slamming his body into the hard, cold tile of the bathroom floor, occasionally pulling on his dreads to raise his head from the floor and then dropping it again with a hard crack. Somehow, the fucking was so like their fights that Tucker almost couldn’t tell any difference. It was still so aggressive, still so much male dominance asserted… except not on his part. He had never been a good fighter, had always been more of a lover, but a taker? From a man?  
  
And Tucker didn’t even have the chance to give as much as he got, because Church’s hand wrapped around his purpling cock again, fisting it roughly with every push into him. With a few more thrusts, Church let out an almost animalistic growl as he came, and it wasn’t long before Tucker threw his head back as he let his own orgasm come from Church’s hands.  
  
Tucker rolled over (he would definitely feel this tomorrow, on his face if not between his legs) and gasped for air, sticking to the tile floor with a combination of lube and come. “No homo, right?” he panted.  
  
“No homo, but…” Church agreed, in the same state Tucker was. His abs were rippling with every breath he took in, his shoulders moving up and down, and Tucker was almost hypnotized by the movement. “We really should do that again sometime.”  
  
And after a few seconds of trying to fight his own feelings, Tucker gave in. “Yeah, we should.”


End file.
